


The Devil Went Down

by moonkid28



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Brazilian Folklore, Come Eating, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demon Genji, Japanese Brazilian Cultural Diffusion, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Oni Genji, Rough Sex, Undernegotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, oni!genji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkid28/pseuds/moonkid28
Summary: Alda Correia is sick— too sick. Medication is expensive, and for people like them, hardly accessible. If nothing is done...It’s something Lúcio can’t bear to watch.





	The Devil Went Down

The wind— warm and quiet, more a breeze than anything— slipped through the open windows of the favela's little house; within it, the sparse furniture and decorations rattled, and the little fire puttered, and flickered, but stayed lit, brightening after the gust of air had passed.

 

On the mattress— a futon, it had once been, before becoming a permanent bed in one of the three tiny rooms, the frame now rusted and rickety— in the middle of what could barely be called a living room, a woman was curled up; at her side knelt a young man on the threadbare rug, the back of his hand resting gently against her forehead.

 

“Mamãe,” he murmured. “Você quer beber algo? Precisa, se você quiser melhorar, né?”

 

A quiet sigh sounded, though it was clearly fond. “Sim, Lúcio. Me alcança um copo, amorzinho.”

 

He cupped her cheek gently, kissing the woman’s forehead before standing and walking to the little sink just beyond the makeshift bed. Quietly, he got to the ground, digging in the bin for a cup; while the woman on the bed was unable to see him, he crushed three little white pills into the bottom of the cup and stood quickly, filling the container and swirling the water inside of it gently as he returned to her side.

 

“Tente beber tudo, sim?” he asked softly, gazing down, and the woman smiled, taking the cup from him, squeezing his hand softly.

 

Eyes sparkling, she tilted her son’s chin towards her; as if showing off for his benefit, she drank down the water as quick as she could, showing off the empty glass for him at the end.

 

The young man grinned, taking her cup and setting it down gently beside himself. Lightly, his mother tugged on his ear, teasing, but soon settled, holding the young man’s hand in her own.

 

He began to hum, a thumb stroking her knuckles— anxiously, he watched her, and soon she began to drift off, tension seeping from her figure as consciousness left her.

 

His tight gaze stayed on the woman for a few more minutes, watching her slow breaths; for the first time in weeks, they were steady and strong.

 

He took a deep breath. As quickly as he could, he withdrew from the bedside, standing and dusting himself off.

 

From there, he moved quickly: from their back room, he retrieved something wrapped in black fabric— a box maybe? some package?— and wrapped himself in a shawl. Into his pockets he shoved a couple pieces of bread and fruit, not bothering to wrap them. His hands shook as he moved, but his face was determined, if pinched; a few coins into the bag slung over his shoulder and a quick kiss to his mother’s forehead, and he slipped out of his tiny home, careful of shutting the door too roughly, lest he wake the woman inside.

 

“Boa noite, Mãe,” he murmured, more to himself than anything.

 

It was dark, only the moon and the glimmer of the city behind him to light his way. Developers never came to this side of town except to pass it by on their way to their massive homes, palaces, in comparison.

 

Lúcio had just finished strapping his old skates to his feet— dingy old things, certainly, but they would get the job done, and far easier— when a voice said, too loud: “Lúcio!”

 

He grasped for him in the darkness, slapping a hand over the boy’s mouth and yanking him in.

 

“Shh!” he hissed, turning to see who it was, and he nearly groaned out loud when he saw the boy’s face.

 

João Romeu, the loudest boy in the slums.

 

“Lúcio,” he whispered, or tried, but Lúcio cut him off with a glare so fierce that he cowed, ducking his head nervously. Lúcio sighed.

 

 _Watch her,_ he signaled, pointing to his door. _Say nothing._

 

“Porque você vai à noite e—” João Romeu began, but Lúcio shook his head, sad.

 

João Romeu drooped. _You’re coming back?_ he signed, and Lúcio hesitated, but nodded.

 

“De manhã,” Lúcio whispered. He placed a hand over his mouth, pointing at the boy, then offered his pinky, and João Romeu took it, shaking it vigorously with his own.

 

 _You owe me!_ he gestured insistently. “Comida!”

 

Lúcio rolled his eyes, grinning, but nodded. “Bem,” he murmured, and kissed the boy’s forehead.

 

Before he could escape, the boy tossed his arms around him, squeezing him tight for a few long seconds. When he released him, his eyes were brimming with tears that he wiped away with a dirty hand, sniffling.

 

“Tchau, Lúcio,” he whispered, before disappearing behind his home, presumably to watch Alda through the window he’d left cracked.

 

He slipped into the night, and towards the forest he skated, chest tight with some unnamed emotion.

 

_X_

 

It was hours before he reached any part of the forest; Rio was far from any wilderness, and he had to hitch a ride on one of the hard light trains before anything else. Thankfully, they were fast and easy enough to find one’s way into even without a ticket, making his journey that much shorter. Finding the river was harder with the thickness of foliage, but it ran long and loud and deep, and it ran in his heart, which meant it wasn’t long before he was at a fork in the riverside.

 

Lúcio settled the shawl down and dumped his bag out atop the fabric, need for speed outdoing any decorum. The box cutter clattered out first. After, the locks of his mother’s hair, a tight roll of silk, a jar of cachaça he’d stolen, a few candles, a spade and a few rolls of pão doce.

 

Slowly, and then faster, he began digging and clawing, alternating between the spade and his hands, desperate to get the job done. It felt like hours to do it, and by the time he finished, he was sweating, his fingers and shoulders aching.

 

Taking the silk (again, stolen) and his boxcutter, he unfolded and laid out the silk in the bottom of the hole and settled the gifts he’d brought in the center; Lúcio grit his teeth, took the blade, and then sliced up the length of his arm until his blood ran, dripping, across everything.

 

Finally, he took one of his own locks, and with the same blade, cut it at the root, dropping it into the collection of items. With shaking hands, his arm aching, he tied off the silk, then pushed the dirt over it and shoved his hands into the river, scooping up water and pouring it over the soil. His finishing touch: he pushed five candles into the damp, soft soil— his grip wavered, nearly dropping the lighter from his pocket, but he managed to light all five.

 

 _Please,_ Lúcio thought to himself desperately, and closed his eyes, fighting not to cry.

 

It was quiet, for a long moment, or as quiet as the rainforest ever got. Minutes passed: Lúcio began to believe that he had failed, this last chance at saving his mother, and then the river began to rush and flow and roar, filling his ears with the noise of it—

 

Abruptly, it stopped. Anxiously, Lúcio opened his eyes, searching for some sign—

 

He jerked backwards, nearly shouting.

 

Before him crouched what he could only describe as a demon. Horns, green skin, its bulging eyes and twisted face contorted into a leer; it had to be taller than him by at least a meter, and armed, two sword hilts protruding from behind its back. Its limber body was swathed in black and green fabric, and its hands were tipped with shining claws that glinted in the moonlight.

 

 _It looked like an oni_ , his brain supplied.

 

“It has been too long,” the creature rumbled, stretching itself out. It shook, river water ricocheting from its figure, soaking Lúcio to the bone instantly.

 

Seemingly ignoring him, the demon sniffed the air, the water, the freshly turned soil: its eyes glinted, and from its twisted mouth snaked a long tongue, caressing its own lips before it reached back and drew both blades.

 

In that moment Lúcio found his voice and _screamed._

 

“ _Don’t eat me!”_ he begged, clutching his injured arm as he scrambled back. He couldn’t fight it, he knew, it was too big, he’d die in a heartbeat—

 

The creature’s blades swung, and he tossed himself back, a cry tearing from his throat--

 

Silently, it buried them into the dark soil.

 

Lúcio blinked.

 

He’d been so sure that right then would be the end of him.

 

In a matter of seconds, his offering was in the demon’s clawed hands. Its tongue ran sloppily over the wrapping, saliva dripping over the fabric; gnarled hands ripped the silk open and as quickly as the gift had been found, it was consumed whole.

 

The demon burped, and laughed, and pounced on Lúcio, slamming him to the ground.

 

“Now why would I eat such a pretty little thing, when it has already given me a snack?” it hissed out, grinning. Its tongue flicked out and licked up a drop of sweat from the end of Lúcio’s nose. “Then again, you might taste very good. I could always make an exception.”

 

Lúcio gulped, trying his hardest not to panic. _God, what had he gotten himself into?_ He tried to speak; not a sound came out.

 

The creature laughed again, and then sat back on its haunches; conveniently, the motion put its weight all on Lúcio’s legs. He wasn’t going anywhere.

 

“I…” he managed, and the creature rolled its eyes.

 

“I won’t eat you,” it interjected. “You are far too skinny to satisfy my hunger. Too many bones.”

 

He swallowed. “Thanks,” he croaked out. “I think.”

 

The creature looked at him. Its massive eyes blinked before it spoke again.

 

“You are here to ask for something.”

 

Lúcio startled. He’d… well, not forgotten, but the fear in his heart had strayed him from his goal. He cleared his throat nervously.

 

“Yes. Please. If you… if you can help, or spare the time, I… I really need this. This favor. It’s…”

 

“Riches?” it interrupted. “Power? A lover?”

 

“No!” Lúcio said hastily. “No, I just— my mom. She’s sick, she’s so sick she can barely stand, and it’s killing her— the doctors don’t know what it is, and they’re so expensive, I can barely— I just want to save her!”

 

The creature looked surprised at his rushed words, though it could have been because he was nearly incoherent.

 

“You called me for another?” it asked, leaning in to peer at him. He nodded.

 

“I don’t want anything for me, I swear. I just want her to be okay.” He looked away, growing quiet. “Maybe that’s… maybe it’s a little selfish, not letting her go, but she isn’t even forty. She’s my mom. I love her.”

 

It was silent, yellow eyes on him.

 

Finally, it nodded.

 

“You know how these deals are sealed, I must guess,” it said, and Lúcio swallowed, and nodded once, firm.

 

“I knew what I was getting in to,” he whispered, eyes to the ground. “Please, just… don’t hurt me too much, yeah? She might start asking things, and I can’t… I don’t wanna lie any more.”

 

The spirit blinked slowly, once, twice, before speaking up.  “I cannot promise you will leave this encounter unharmed,” it rumbled. “But I will not break you.”

 

“Thanks,” he murmured. “I guess we should… get movin’, then.”

 

The demon was suddenly on top of him again, pressing him to the ground. He was shaking, but stayed silent as it scented him, tongue flickering, nose sniffing and snorting curiously. He tried to look, but when he caught its gaze, he flinched, turning his face away.

 

The creature chuckled, the sound scratchy. “Humans,” it said, sounding deeply amused. “I forget, you are skittish. Jumpy little frog, hmm?”

 

Lúcio went scarlet. “I- I’m not- I don’t wanna be- be rude,” he stammered out. “I just- you’re kinda scary? And big? And I don’t— Do you have a name, even?”

 

The chuckle burst into a full-blown roar of laughter, belly shaking and deep, loud enough that Lúcio could _feel it_ , in his guts and bones. “A name, he asks! A name, for a spirit!” He kept laughing, and Lúcio covered his face, beyond embarrassed.

 

When it settled down, Lúcio felt a grasp on his wrists. His hands were tugged away from his eyes, and he blinked, gaze falling to the creature.

 

It had transformed when he’d covered his face, he guessed. No longer was it the monstrous thing he’d seen gobble up his offering: now, it looked more like a man, or something human-like. Its ears were still pointed, and its teeth still looked deadly sharp, and of course, there were little horns sprouting from its head, surrounded by a shock of neon green hair— all of that was odd, but the creature was no longer inherently terrifying.

 

 _He’s kind of attractive,_ Lúcio thought, and then mentally slapped himself. This was a _demon,_ capable of snatching his soul and devouring him whole. There was no time for being _attracted_ to… it. Him. Them.

 

“You may call me Genji,” the spirit said, still amused. “It is what I was called, once, when I was called ‘brother’ and ‘son’.”

 

“You have a brother?” Lúcio said before he could stop himself, marvelling at the thought.

 

Genji’s amusement faded. “No,” he said roughly, looking away, and Lúcio flinched. _Shit._ “No longer.”

 

Lúcio bit his lip. Hesitantly, he reached up; when Genji didn’t stop him, he placed his trembling hand on the demon’s cheek.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what happened, but… i’m sorry. Whatever it was.”

 

Genji looked at him searchingly. What he was looking for, Lúcio had no clue, but he didn’t seem displeased, which was all he really wanted.

 

“We should not waste moonlight,” Genji said finally, shifting away from him, hands going to his clothing. “If you do not wish to lie.”

 

“Yeah,” Lúcio said hoarsely, and then promptly lost his breath as Genji’s garments dropped to the forest floor.

 

He was _covered_ in tattoos. All in black and green ink— dragons and serpents and demons— they seemed to shift, crawling along his skin as if they were alive. Beneath them, he was scarred almost as much as he was tattooed, muscled and limber, and, on a level that was terrifying to Lúcio himself?

 

Fucking _hung_.

 

His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick at the base but _thicker_ in the middle, tapering gently off where the head was; even that seemed to hook slightly, leading into ridges that lined from tip to root. What seemed to be his sac— though as far as he could see, it could’ve been something far different, as it was tight against his length, and smooth, save for the thick veins of it— pulsed slightly, and that was it, he was dead. Lúcio was going to die getting dicked down by an ancient encantado who for some reason was fucking _Japanese—_

 

 _That’s never going to fit,_ he thought hysterically. _If that’s what he looks like soft, I won’t ever be able to sit down again._

 

“You look frightened, _kaeru_ ,” Genji said, and was he _teasing him?_

 

“I’m… real small, man,” Lúcio said weakly. Genji chuckled.

 

“I said I would not break you,” he said, and Lúcio nodded, not trusting his voice to say much else. Again, he laughed, low, warm.

 

“Come, undress. Our time is wasting.”

 

It didn’t take long. A hoodie, a tank top, his skates, the leggings. He hesitated, but Genji looked impatient, so he stripped out of the underwear before he could get cold feet.

 

No sooner did he lay the garment down that Genji had him flat on his back again, dazed; he gasped, thighs instinctively snapping closed as he realized Genji’s head was between them, nose buried where this pelvis met his right thigh.

 

The demon’s hands crept up, fingers digging into his thighs as they tugged them apart, exposing him to the night air. Genji’s tongue snaked from between his lips, dripping with saliva— as if moving of its own accord, it snaked around Lúcio’s rapidly stiffening cock, lavishly caressing it as if savoring it.

 

Heat curled low inside of him, and he whimpered, the touch both too much and not enough; Genji pulled off and pressed his face into Lúcio’s stomach, inhaling deeply.

 

“ _You are untouched_ ,” he breathed. “You are a _virgin.”_

 

Lúcio flushed from head to toe, tossing an arm over his face. “Yes?” he said, embarrassed. “That’s why I was freaking out, jeez.”

 

“You’re _delicious,”_ Genji marveled. “You taste fresh, of sweat and smoke and copper.” His fingertips skated down his stomach, nails scraping delicately over his skin. Surprisingly gently, Genji cupped his sac, rolling it in his grasp before tugging, just a little— Lúcio’s knee jerked up and Genji did it again, firmer, squeezing. He whimpered, digging his fingers into the dirt.

 

“That’s- kind of- a weird thing to say,” Lúcio managed, but it was for nothing; Genji was too otherwise preoccupied.

 

“If only I were an incubus,” he murmured, fascinated with each sound he drew from the man. Lúcio choked on air when the tip of his tongue flicked in and out of his navel, teasing and hungry— he did it again, slower, and his toes curled. “How would you look if your pleasure was amplified, overflowing?”

 

Again, Genji buried his face between Lúcio’s thighs; this time it was not merely his tongue working, but his full mouth, taking him to the hilt in one greedy swallow. A choked-off groan was all he could stutter out as Genji gorged himself on his now fully stiffened cock, licking and swallowing him, throat tightening with every bob of his head. Lúcio could hear every noise: the smack of his lips opening around him, the wet slide of saliva and pre-cum— when Genji pulled off, eyes heavy, skin flushed, it dribbled down over his taint and soon, that became victim to the demon’s mouth as well. It didn’t keep his attention long, or so he thought; his mouth returned to his erection to lap indulgently at it, but clever fingers pressed against it, teasing it while he fed himself his cock.

 

Roughly, Genji pressed his knuckles against the knot of muscle— with his free hand, he tugged Lúcio in by the waist to bury his erection deep within his throat and _swallowed._

 

The combination of it all was too much for him, and he had only enough warning to gasp, “I’m—” before he shot cum down, down, deep into the spirit’s throat.

 

Genji’s mouth opened wider: from it, his tongue rolled out, snaking around Lúcio’s sac and squeezing. It didn’t even stop him from gulping greedily at his length despite it slowly softening (though not much), milking him dry, forcing drop after drop down his throat. He used him thoroughly, and likely would not have stopped had Lúcio not whimpered in near-pain from over stimulus, pawing at Genji’s hair.

 

With no small objection, made evident by the petulance in his eyes simmering just below the arousal, Genji freed his now-soft cock from the vice of his throat. For good measure, clearly communicating his reluctance, he lightly dragged his nose down the thick vein of the underside and pressed it in behind his balls, breathing deeply, humming.

 

Finally, Lúcio could breathe, and he did so laying splayed out on the ground, taking huge, gulping breaths. He was— was something, certainly: exhausted, maybe, but exhilarated somehow, an undercurrent of heat still forcing the air to race through his lungs.

 

Genji’s tongue dipped low and lapped at the tight pucker of muscle, just once, and Lúcio flinched. He still hadn’t recovered from the strength of his orgasm; anything now would be too much, too soon.

 

Amusement danced in Genji’s eyes. “You will be easier to prepare when you are pliant like this,” he purred, stroking his thumb along the skin behind his knee. It was hitched over his shoulder (when had that gotten there?); the spirit nuzzled into his thigh, smile sly.

 

“I feel like that’s not true,” he said breathlessly. “I feel like you’re just saying that to- to hurry up. Gimme a second, man.”

 

Genji chuckled, but allowed the moment of respite— eventually Lúcio recovered enough to breathe regularly again, and he savored it, laid out on only the little shawl and his clothes.

 

Hands skated along the surface of his skin: calves, thighs, hips, stomach. Lúcio laughed softly, perhaps a little self-consciously, but flattered as well; clearly, Genji was being patient for his sake alone, want radiating from him like a furnace.

 

“Did you want something?” he teased, and Genji growled low in his throat.

 

“You mock me,” he complained. “In ancient days, I tossed impertinent men into the river.”

 

Before Lúcio could respond, Genji’s clawed hand wrapped around his throat— it squeezed once, talons scraping against his skin. Fear spiked in his gut; uncomfortably enough, so did arousal, his cock twitching against his stomach.

 

Genji noticed, because of course he did, and he grinned maniacally, teeth glinting in the moonlight. Lúcio flushed.

 

“You like this, little virgin?” he asked silkily. His grip tightened; Lúcio’s cock jumped, stiffening, and Genji looked unashamedly delighted.

 

“You ask me not to hurt you, but your body relishes in it,” he murmured. He pressed his face into the crook of Lúcio’s neck, tongue tracing between his fingers to taste his skin. Gently, his fingers loosened, though his grip still remained, cupping his throat. “You must tell me now what you want, or I will mount you and take from you in whichever ways I can.”

 

 _Mount you_. Like an animal. His skin burned— he was doing this. This was happening, to him, and Genji was going to have a claim on him written in blood and sweat, known to the universe.

 

But he had known that from the moment he had stepped out of his house, hadn’t he?

 

Genji stroked over his throat with a thumb, slow, eyes curious but not impatient, not demanding-- Lucio thought about how lucky he was to have a spirit willing to listen, and his resolve strengthened.

 

He swallowed.

 

“I can take it,” he said finally. “I’m doing this. You said you wouldn’t break me, and you… you could’ve ignored me, or- or hurt me already. So… so go ahead. Do it.”

 

A slow smile rolled over Genji’s handsome face-- it was deeply pleased, and lit with a hunger he had never seen before; somehow, Lucio was unafraid, even faced with this unknown.

 

“A good choice, I find,” he rumbled. “On your knees, kaeru, that I may prepare you.”

 

_X_

 

_“Unh, mmh— unh, u-unh, Genji, deus—”_

 

Lúcio’s teeth clamped onto his forearm, choking off his desperate-sounding whimpers and moans as Genji’s forked tongue fucked into him, fingers splitting him open as his slick mouth wet Lúcio’s hole. His thighs were shaking— every so often, his thumbs would tug his hole wide, saliva dripping from his tongue until it was deep inside of him— Lúcio dragged his fingers in the dirt, clutching for purchase in the ground as Genji reduced him to a quivering mess.

 

“ _Please,_ Genji—” he gasped out, and Genji squeezed his ass in his hands, spreading him wide. His tongue dragged around the rim of his open hole, slow enough that Lúcio began to tremble at the sensation— it slipped inside of him, licking his walls, and Genji forced it deep, until he could suck at his rim, the tips of his thumbs tucked inside of him still wrenching his hole open to the night air.

 

However noisy Lúcio himself was, Genji was twice that.

 

His mouth alone was a mess of filthy noises, wet sucking and squelching, his tongue buried deep inside of him, but it was more than that. The spirit would pant against him, mouth falling open, breath hot on his skin— he groaned and grunted with effort as he worked Lúcio open, the sounds reverberating from deep in his chest. He sounded as though _he_ were the one experiencing this dark pleasure, and not Lúcio, his legs splayed and cock dripping between them— perhaps he was, his enjoyment tied to Lúcio’s own in that moment.

 

Too soon and just soon enough, Genji plunged two fingers deep inside of him and he _sobbed,_ dick jerking between his legs roughly— in and out, twisting and stretching,

 

With only that warning, Lúcio felt the blunt head of his erection trace around his hole. Slickly, it pressed down the rim and between his thighs, dragging along his own erection; Genji plastered himself behind Lúcio’s much smaller body and fucked into the hot, wet, now tightened space between his thighs. He whimpered, too turned on, the sensation nearly too much, but he couldn’t stop himself from sliding back, over and over, precum drooling out of him. Worse still, Genji tugged him open with a long finger, pressing all too firmly into his prostate. Lúcio’s whimpers became drawn out whines, and outright moans.

 

The fifth time the head of Genji’s cock dipped even slightly further, Lúcio broke; he grasped for the demon’s arm and cried outright, “Genji, _please!”_

 

That broke his singular focus with tormenting his human sacrifice. He seemed to collect himself— panting slightly, Genji peeled himself back from Lúcio’s bare skin and pressed his hand to the small of his back.

 

Suddenly, Lúcio’s hole was spreading with the weight of Genji’s cock, blunt and wide, but the stretch was so deliciously sweet that he could only gasp. It was as if something from within him was simply expanding, stealing every inch of space and air but never once hurting him and now, _now_ Lúcio _knew_ why the spirit had nearly taken him to completion on his hands and knees.

 

The street pastors had been right. There was no way anything that felt this good could be anything but a sin.

 

“ _Genji,”_ Lúcio moaned, and moaned, and Genji slid deeper with every call of his name until Lúcio could barely breathe he’d said it so many times, Genji’s hand crushing what little air he had left out of him as the last ridge of his inhuman erection slid home within him. Groaning with effort, Genji shifted— he pulled him in one handedly, settling so deep that Lúcio released an outright cry. God, he hadn’t known anyone could go so deep inside of him or fit so snugly; he tried to shift, just slightly to raise himself from the ground, and Genji withdrew a half-inch to drive back into him. Again, the motion drew a cry from him, arms shaking with the effort of holding his own body aloft.

 

“Louder,” Genji breathed into Lúcio’s ear, breath heavy with arousal. “Let the forest in its entirety hear the sound of your deflowering, kaeru…”

 

“I can’t breathe,” he gasped in response. “Genji, I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

 

“Too full?” he purred, and Lucio nodded desperately.

 

“I will grant you mercy,” Genji said softly. “And then take you apart inch by inch until you beg for it again.” He withdrew, and Lucio took in gulps of air, huge ones, until he could feel the need cresting inside of him and he had been _right,_ the overwhelming emptiness of relief was so much worse than the undeniable deliciousness of being _full._

 

 _“Genji,_ come _back, please—”_ he said, and Genji was there, pressing slickly into him, whispering sweetly in his ear.

 

“Perfect, little frog, perfect, made for me, made to be here, in my realm, my arms,” he murmured; every single time he drove inside of him he left no room for air or shame. Lúcio was _taken,_ and he _relished_ in it, _delighted_ in the mindlessness of want.

 

Clawed hands cupped his aching, dripping erection, pressing slickly against it; he wasn’t even properly pleasuring him, but the cage of his grip made his cock jump in the demon’s grasp and his hips stutter back, taking Genji deeper, clenching down on him, knees collapsing out from under himself—

 

—Genji snapped.

 

He took his hips, grabbing him roughly, and began to fuck him with wild abandon, his restraint somehow gone; Lúcio’s eyes rolled firmly back into his skull, face planted in the ground and mouth wide, sobbing and drooling. Every ridge of Genji’s thick cock felt electrifying on his prostate, making him shake with ecstasy, limp as Genji _used_ him; Lúcio came near-unwillingly, choking on his own cries as cum spurted out onto his neck, his chin, his own face, and _still_ Genji snapped his hips to bury the monstrous erection inside of his warm insides.

 

His strokes began to slowly grow erratic. Lúcio was barely conscious now, but even he could feel it, the pounding no longer as neat and even but still as powerful. Suddenly, Genji’s hand closed around his throat and tugged him upright; Genji was now fucking up into him, bouncing him in his lap, slick on his stiff length, and he couldn’t _breathe,_ he didn’t _need_ to breathe, all he needed was this, this moment that felt as though he were being destroyed and built anew. Genji’s tongue dragged over his neck, panting as he lapped up the cum Lúcio had spilled over himself—

 

Genji came.

 

There was so much of it. Too much: he could feel himself being filled with it, his insides drenched with the demon’s seed; Genji eased him to the ground again and rolled his hips tenderly into him, forcing every drop inside, as if he couldn’t let it spill from him, as if he meant to breed him like a mare.  His grip slid from around Lúcio’s throat, down, down, over his stomach and his hands grew gentle, even as he kept pumping him with hot, thick cum.

 

“Gorgeous,” he murmured into the back of his neck, kissing it softly. “Stay, kaeru, stay like this. _Take me_ .” He tugged back, and then pushed slowly inside of him again; Lúcio realized he could feel the seed inside of him, feel Genji’s still-hard length stirring it within him, and he whimpered, clenching down on him inadvertently. Genji groaned, palm going flat on Lúcio’s stomach, and _fuck,_ Genji’s cock was buried in his fucking _intestines,_ swimming in his own cum, and he could only do as he said, and take him, and take him, and take him.

 

It seemed like hours before Genji pulled out. Even then, it wasn’t enough to keep what he’d spilled inside of him, and Lúcio let out a broken gasp as he felt it drip out of him, his hole fluttering weakly and failing to keep it inside— Genji’s fingers and mouth were there, licking up his bare thighs and feeding cum back into the gaping hole.

 

“Gen- ji-,” Lúcio tried to say brokenly, out of air, but the spirit shushed him gently.

 

“None of that,” he murmured. “You did well. Your body has been through enough. I will care for you.”

 

Two fingers pressed slickly into him, dragging over his prostate; Lúcio’s breath left him, and he blacked out as he came a _third_ time, just from that.

 

_X_

 

When he regained consciousness, he was in the river, Genji holding him close, pouring water delicately over his aching muscles and through his hair.

 

Sighing, he pressed his face into Genji’s neck, who chuckled.

 

“You rise.”

 

Lúcio laughed weakly. “You kind of just turned my brain upside down, man.”

 

“Well,” Genji murmured. “In my defense, I did not expect to find a little mortal like yourself.”

 

Lúcio flushed— and sure, he’d just gotten fucked to unconsciousness and cum eaten out of his ass, but _that_ was what made him blush— and buried his face more firmly into Genji’s neck.

 

The spirit chuckled again, gently stroking Lúcio’s side.

 

“Come now, you are no longer a blushing virgin,” he teased, and Lúcio groaned, embarrassed.

 

“Yeah, pretty sure everyone in my neighborhood is gonna know,” he said, pink. “Thanks for that.”

 

“I forgot myself,” Genji said, a touch ruefully. “In your body, in my pleasure. But I checked, I did no lasting damage. No wounds, I swear this. And if you wish, I can clear the evidence of our joining.”

 

“No,” Lúcio said, surprising both of them. He pulled back, looking at Genji, gaze heavy. “...please, don’t. I… I want to feel this. Feel _you_. I want to know I didn’t dream this.”

 

Genji looked openly shocked and pleased in turn. “You want this memory, little frog?”

 

Lúcio swallowed, and then nodded. “This… you… no one will ever touch me like this. It’s you. I can’t… I don’t _want_ to forget this. I know it’s… I came for my mom. But you made me… that’s the most alive i’ve felt in months. Years, maybe.”

 

Abruptly, he found himself pressed to the riverbank and Genji’s mouth pressed against his own. They kissed until Lúcio was out of breath and then a few seconds more, until Genji panted against his lips, “You must leave me, or I will have to take you again, and the dawn will catch us both.”

 

“Okay,” Lúcio said breathlessly, and then tugged Genji in again, hiking his legs up around his hips and his arms behind his neck, kissing him feverishly, mindless of air and time, consumed with need.

 

Genji kissed down his neck when he could no longer ignore his need to breathe, tasting the salt of sweat and the clearness of the river on his heated skin. “I have to go,” he moaned, fingers buried in Genji’s hair, and Genji murmured his agreement, not ceasing in his sucking kisses.

 

“You must leave me,” he agreed, hands greedily squeezing his thighs, tongue lapping at his stiff nipples, and Lúcio whimpered, too hot all over.

 

“Fuck,” he gasped, “fuck, fuck, Genji, god—”

 

Genji tore himself away, wild-eyed. “Go,” he urged. “Or I will keep you forever. _Go.”_

 

Lúcio scrambled out of the river, grabbing for his clothes— miraculously, he was dry as soon as he left the water, which must’ve been Genji’s doing— and dressed himself as quickly as he could. He knelt at the riverbank one last time and gave Genji the most searing kiss he could manage, one that had the spirit clutching at his wrist so tightly he had to fight to pull away, wrenching out of his grasp, and disappeared into the forest—

 

—only to find, when the greenery cleared, that he was at his own door, the sun peering weakly over the horizon.

 

“Lúcio!” a voice called, and he startled: it was João Romeu, scrambling to fling himself into his arms, and Lúcio caught him at the last minute, supporting him as he managed to clamber up his body, catching himself around Lúcio’s neck.

 

The boy pressed kisses to his cheeks, pulling back to look at him— his brow furrowed, and he scrutinized him, looking worried.

 

“Você está inteiro?”

 

Lúcio mustered up a laugh, ready to brush it off, but João Romeu looked at him, wide eyed, gaze watery, and something in him couldn’t lie, laughter dying on his lips as he looked at the boy in his arms. “Não sei,” he admitted softly. “É muito complicado.”

 

“Tudo é complicado,” João Romeu muttered, and Lúcio snorted, surprised.

 

“O que você precisa fazer que é complicado, hein?” He asked, squeezing at his sides, and he yelped, squirming, fighting his grasp and giggling. Lúcio kept tickling him, grinning as the boy screeched, until he gasped, “Para, para!” and Lúcio laughed, setting him down gently.

 

Fondly, he brushed back the boy’s sandy hair— who kept bleaching it, he didn’t know, but he’d have to tell the little boy to run some coconut oil through it, particularly on his scalp— and knelt, so that he was at eye level with him.

 

“Obrigado. Muito, muito mesmo,” he said softly.

 

João Romeu nodded, sucking at his lip and nodding seriously. That lasted only seconds before he threw his arms around Lúcio again, clutching tightly round his neck.

 

“Brigado a você. Eu amo você, okay? Todos amamos,” he whispered.

 

Lúcio fought not to choke up, not to cry on this six year old, but his throat was tight and his eyes were watery nonetheless— he squeezed him tight in lieu of an answer, but by the way he went soft in his arms, the kid understood.

 

“Volta para sua mãe,” João Romeu said softly, and Lúcio pulled back, nodding, ruffling his hair again.

 

“Tchau,” he murmured, releasing him, and João Romeu stepped back, waving with a little hand, then ran off, presumably to his mothers. They wouldn’t trouble him, not for doing a favor to Lúcio.

 

He had, after all, helped them give birth to their child.

 

Lúcio dusted off his hands and stood, turning to the door of his little home; he took the doorknob in hand and simply held it for a long moment, forcing himself to breathe.

 

 _You did the right thing,_ he thought, swallowing hard. _She’ll be… it’ll be okay. All of it._

 

He thought of Genji’s slow kisses, of him pouring water over his skin, of the bundle of little sacrifices and blood and sweat and dirt—

 

Lúcio turned the doorknob.

**Author's Note:**

> weLL THAT WAS FUN—
> 
> So, some explanations: Genji is not exactly a demon. “Spirit” is the most accurate term for him— he’s a form of yōkai, specifically mizu no ke yōkai, or a water spirit. He has the physical appearance (upon his first meeting with Lúcio) of an oni, and is an obake, or a shapeshifting spirit. He is ALSO, however, a Brazilian spirit called an “encantado”, which is just a general term for like, ghost or spirit, but he’s a specific water spirit that manifests as a pink river dolphin in the Amazon, as well as a crossroads spirit, which is why Lúcio buried his offering in the fork of the water and the road, deep in the Amazon.
> 
> The reason he appears in Brazil despite being Japanese is actually not despite, but because of that fact. Brazil has a HUGE population of Japanese people, and there’s a lot of cultural diffusion in our fashion, food, and general life— it’s actually the largest population of japanese people outside of japan! 
> 
> I wanted to combine these myths together because of that cultural diffusion, and because of how our cultures intertwine so deeply— to me, it would totally make sense for Japanese spirits to manifest in Brasil, and for Lúcio to know about them. As a Portuguese person who lived in Brasil as a child, having cultural elements of these two places fit together in a way that made sense was super important.
> 
> Lúcio did not lose his soul. He actually doesn’t exactly know that— he went with the intention of giving it, because it was that important to him that his mother survived, but Genji’s actions made him question whether or not it was actually taken, hence why he hesitated to open the door. He was worried that Genji liked him too much to claim his soul, and would not keep up the deal.
> 
> Fun fact: Genji did uphold the deal, and Lucio’s mother’s body is already healing by the time he returns home.
> 
> “Well then, what did he take?”
> 
> Er, cliché, but... Lúcio’s virginity. He doesn’t explicitly need a soul to uphold a deal, just to be given something valuable— Genji decided that his sexual awakening was enough for him, because he likes Lúcio. 
> 
> A lot.
> 
> Technically, however, he now has a claim on Lúcio, and should he change his mind, he could find him no matter where he was and take him to his spirit realm, where Lúcio would have to remain alongside him for eternity, but like, whatever.
> 
> “Why does he like him so much?”
> 
> In short, Lúcio is extremely fucking cute and loves his mother so much— in this AU, Hanzo succeeded in killing him, but when Genji was alive, he was very much his mother’s child, and her passing both hurt him tremendously and was one of the catalysts for his and Hanzo’s relationship falling apart.
> 
> Additionally, Lúcio is still a healer, of a sort. He mostly helps the people around his slum— like I mentioned, he helped birth João Romeu, when he was about sixteen, because his mothers are also very poor— but he wants to help other people, however, caring for his mother was his top priority.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS: 
> 
> “Você quer beber algo? Precisa, se você quiser melhorar, né?” - “Do you want to drink something? You need it, if you want to get better, no?”
> 
> “Sim, Lúcio. Me alcança um copo, amorzinho.”- “Yes, Lúcio. Pass me a cup, love.”
> 
> “Tente beber tudo, sim?” - “Try to drink all of it, yeah?”
> 
> “Boa noite, Mãe,” - “Good night, Mom.”
> 
> “Porque você vai à noite e—” - “Why are you leaving in the night and—”
> 
> “De manhã,” - “In the morning”
> 
> “Comida!” - “Food!”
> 
> “Bem,” - “Okay”
> 
> “Tchau, Lúcio,” - “Bye, Lúcio”
> 
> Cachaça - brasilian sugar cane rum
> 
> Pão doce - sweet bread
> 
> Encantado - the pink river dolphin spirit
> 
> Kaeru - frog
> 
> “Você está inteiro?” - “You’re okay/in one piece?”
> 
> “Não sei,” - “I don’t know”
> 
> “É muito complicado.” - “It’s very complicated.” 
> 
> “Tudo é complicado,” - “Everything is complicated”
> 
> “O que você precisa fazer que é complicado, hein?” - “What do you have to do that’s complicated, huh?”
> 
> “Para, para!” - “Stop, stop!”
> 
> “Obrigado. Muito, muito mesmo,” - “Thank you, thank you very, very much”
> 
> “Brigado a você. Eu amo você, okay? Todos amamos,” - “Thank *you*. I love you, okay? We all do”
> 
> “Volta para sua mãe,” - “Go to your mom”
> 
> “Tchau,” - “Goodbye”
> 
> I think that’s everything! Please feel free to comment if you have any questions or if something confused you (or if I missed a translation or fucked one up, for which I’m very sorry, because my portugues is very rusty since everyone here speaks spanish). Thank y’all so much for reading, and if you’d like, you can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/freeziearts) to watch me complain about writing and also be gay.
> 
> And thank you so much to [Shana](https://twitter.com/ShanaBRX) for doing my updated translations!! They're a peach, you should all follow them.
> 
> Tchau!


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